


Just Like Heaven

by astrospecial



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Getting Together, Hair Braiding, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospecial/pseuds/astrospecial
Summary: Lorenz promises Hilda that he'll braid Ferdinand's hair. It ends up going very well for him.





	Just Like Heaven

Like all bad ideas, it started with Hilda.

Hilda had cornered him outside the mess hall as he was leaving. To his credit, Lorenz had listened quite politely considering he had a meeting with Byleth. But some impatience must have shown on his face (Lorenz made a mental note to work on schooling his facial expressions), for a moment later she said: “All I’m saying, Lorenz, is that Ferdinand’s hair is so beautiful!” She twisted her hair in her fingers, sighed forlornly. “He won’t let me touch it, though. But you two are close, aren’t you? Would you please braid it for me?”

Hilda was no mere maiden, but Lorenz couldn’t resist her requests anyway. With a resolute nod, he had given her his nobleman’s vow. Only when she had giggled and skipped away with a shout of  _ show me!  _ did Lorenz realize the gravity of his promise.

He had thought he was past the phase of doing everything Hilda wanted. But even after five years, she was still irresistible to Lorenz’s noble nature. When someone was in need, whether they were starving or just wanted to see a beautiful person’s hair braided, he  _ had  _ to help them. What sort of nobleman would he be if he didn’t? Regardless, Hilda was too skilled at making even the most difficult of problems seem barely an inconvenience. 

And this was everything but a simple request for Lorenz. Now, he had to persuade Ferdinand to let him braid his hair. Ferdinand, who he might have stared at far too long during their Monastery days. Ferdinand, who had knocked him down after three seconds in a lance tourney because he was too busy  _ seeing  _ how the light graced his perfect eyes, his perfect nose, his perfect face. Ferdinand, who had joined the Golden Deer, who had sat next to him in class, who had invited him to tea and had bought him the nicest tea leaves.

He was a flawless nobleman only matched by Lorenz in beauty and virtue. 

Lorenz had thought that once war broke out, they’d never see each other again— and that would be the end of his little problem. But they had managed to stay in touch during the five years, culminating when Ferdinand stayed at his estate for a few months. He said he had grown tired of wandering, that finding the Emperor’s soldiers in every sympathetic town was becoming increasingly frequent, that he needed a break. Lorenz’s  _ stay as long as you wish  _ might have sounded pure, but the darkest of ulterior motives lay behind it. The truth was he missed Ferdinand and the estate was too lonesome. Thankfully his father accepted Ferdinand’s new identity as the cousin of a cousin of a minor noble of the shattered Faerghus state. If Ferdinand minded the lie, he didn’t say. 

“Emperor Edelgard is not interested in me. What is one person against her armies, one person who has done nothing but flee?” Ferdinand had answered when Lorenz had asked why he seemed so at ease. “The anonymity is good. It allows me to help the common folk, those that stand the most to lose against her regime.” His smile was on the edge of bitter, and Lorenz forgot that he was going to take a sip of tea. Ferdinand stared at the hovering tea cup for a moment until his smile softened into something blinding. “I am eternally grateful you would allow me to stay with you. The tea and baths are appreciated. Are you aware of how hard it is to maintain my hair when I rarely see soap?”

Those months were hell. The war-torn, ragged Ferdinand who appeared at his doorstep, had emerged from the baths that first day looking like the young gods the Almyrans worshipped. He was dressing in Lorenz’s room because the servants were preparing the disarrayed guest wing. After all, guests did not come often during times of war. It was that memory of him sitting at Lorenz’s mirror that haunted him most often.

Ferdinand was brushing his hair with Lorenz’s comb, naked except for the towel around his tan waist. His hair was to the tips of his shoulders, hundreds of knots marring it. Now and then he would wince. Lorenz couldn’t keep his eyes off of Ferdinand’s bottom lip, red and rough, as he worried it between his teeth. Sometimes he would switch hands, stretch his arms or roll his neck; he was never still, and Lorenz had thought it was because he wasn’t used to sitting anymore. Later, he found that Ferdinand had torn his shoulder, but that was only after poking and prodding his lies and half-truths so much he felt like a doctor. 

When Ferdinand would shift, the muscles in his torso would flex, and the towel around his waist taunted Lorenz with its almost imperceptible moves downward. Ferdinand was still wet and warm from the baths.

They had been talking about what Lorenz had been up to, the conversation light, and Lorenz had to excuse himself. He was lecherous. Outside in the cold air, he tried to shove the image away, the hope that the towel would slip off completely. After ten minutes he felt calm enough to face him again.

Then when they had reunited at the Monastery, Ferdinand had given him the biggest hug possible, his head pressed into Lorenz’s chest. And although everyone was around, he had picked him up, spun him around like they were newly-weds. Claude, damn him, had cackled so hard he had fallen!  _ He  _ was just as embarrassing when he saw everyone again.

If Hilda’s little request wasn’t a part of one of Claude’s schemes, then it was surely because she thought they were together. Because weren’t Lorenz and Ferdinand inseparable? They were, but that was beside the point.

The next day, Ferdinand invited Lorenz for his favorite (and expensive!) blend of tea, and Lorenz wouldn’t dare decline. Their teatime was, of course, lovely as always. As was Ferdinand himself. Ferdinand had put more effort into his appearance than usual, so much so that Lorenz was afraid of how much time he probably spent on himself. He must have washed his hair especially for their meeting, and anytime he poured Lorenz another cup, it was impossible to miss the smell of new perfume. His outfit was new, too, likely picked up with money from all the extra chores Ferdinand was doing lately. It might have been vain, but Lorenz wanted to think that Ferdinand had done all this just for him.

When their tea was gone, Lorenz worked up all the courage that existed in him to say: “Ferdinand? May I ask you something?”

“Anything, Lorenz.”

Lorenz swallowed, wished he had more tea. He needed something to do and settled with running a few fingers through his hair. It was coincidence that he decided to grow his out after he saw that Ferdinand was growing his. No matter what Claude said. “May I braid your hair?”

Ferdinand blinked. Then he smiled. “Have you talked to Hilda recently? All she says to me lately is how beautiful I would look with a braid.”

Heat rose to Lorenz’s cheeks. That almost confirmed his theory. “Did she ask you to braid it?” When Ferdinand shook his head, Lorenz resolved to give Hilda and Claude a very angry piece of his mind later.

“Did she…” Ferdinand gestured to his hair.

“Yes.” 

“And you…” Now he made a mock Leicester Alliance salute that had no right to be as cute as it was. 

But it only served to make Lorenz feel more and more dejected. Hilda had played another unsuspecting noble once again. “I gave her my word.”

Ferdinand grinned. “Of course you did! Then I suppose I have no choice but to help you. Well, I would have agreed anyway.” He picked up a strand of his hair and twirled it around his finger. “I have not had much of a chance to do anything with it, besides wear it in a tie. But that is not as fancy as anything you could do.”

“You flatter me.”

“I would never. Whenever you braid yours, it looks fantastic. I am more offended you would wait for Hilda to trap you in a favor instead of asking me yourself.”

Lorenz stood and began cleaning up their mess. It wasn’t that Lorenz had never thought of Ferdinand’s hair, quite the opposite. But those fantasies were not things that could ever come to fruition or be shared in daylight. “I thought you would say no.”

“To you? Never. Allow me to help.”

They finished tidying up and went to Lorenz’s room. Lorenz was on his bed, and Ferdinand sat on his desk chair in front of him. Like all those years ago, Lorenz used his comb for Ferdinand’s hair, but he was the one brushing it, feeling it become silk in his fingers. He couldn’t see Ferdinand’s face. Was he bored, or were his eyes closed in bliss? It was better not to know.

Lorenz decided to do a traditional Leicester Alliance braid, the one Marianne wore it every day. She possessed all the regal qualities that exemplified the style and made her look like a saint in the flesh. What else would be fit for Ferdinand besides a braid that framed his head like a halo?

With deft fingers, Lorenz set to work. He took care not to pull too tight, not to make Ferdinand wince. It was only a little after he started braiding did Ferdinand chuckle.

“You hum while you work. Were you aware of that?” Lorenz hadn’t been, but the knowledge made him blush. He was about to make an excuse when Ferdinand spoke again: “Do not feel like you have to stop for me. In fact, I find the humming rather nice.” Ferdinand sighed. It was an almost musical sound. “Like a lullaby. I could fall asleep.”

“I am almost done. Then you can sleep all you wish.”

“And miss showing off such beautiful braids? Absolutely not.” 

Why, Goddess, did he vow to do this for Hilda? He would die before he finished the braid. What could Ferdinand be getting out of saying such affectionate things?

He finished the braid not too long after. It was odd seeing the nape of Ferdinand’s neck after all this time. Yes, it was five years ago he last saw this part of him: watching him fight Lysithea to answer each question Professor Byleth asked. They had gotten stuck with a seating chart after Claude spent too much time talking to Hilda, but thankfully the Professor had kept Ferdinand in Lorenz’s field of view. Without thinking, he placed his fingers there. The skin was soft. If he closed his eyes, he was back in that classroom, staring at the back of Ferdinand’s neck, hearing his voice ricochet off the walls in bold tones. His thumb ran itself across his nape. At least not all things had changed since then: Ferdinand’s neck was still scarless and he was still as distracting.

Ferdinand’s breath hitched. “Lorenz? Are you alright?”

Lorenz snatched his hand away. Ferdinand’s neck was red and very, very pretty. “Yes. I finished if you want to see.”

Ferdinand rose and went to Lorenz’s mirror. The braid had the effect Lorenz had thought it would, much to his dismay. He looked like a king with a golden crown on his brow, righteous and powerful. But there was a softer aspect in the wisps of hair that were too short to fit the braid— the true persona of the king underneath the crown. Somehow it was like seeing Ferdinand in only the towel, a movement away from laying everything bare. 

Lorenz swallowed and stared at Ferdinand’s back. Safer, but only by a margin. “What do you think? Magnificent, correct?”

Ferdinand touched the braid, his eyes wide. After a moment, he turned to Lorenz, grinning. Lorenz’s heart was pounding so fast that Ferdinand surely could have heard it. “I love it. Thank you very much, Lorenz.”

He couldn’t stand to see the happiness shining in Ferdinand’s smile. The floor was considerably less beautiful. “It was my pleasure.” 

And it would be his demise, but he wasn’t going to say that.

“Does it not suit me?”   
  
Lorenz looked up, and Ferdinand was too close. There was that perfume, light and airy, there were his eyes that Lorenz dreamed about during sleepless nights. There was that strength in his shoulders, in his brows, in his lips.

“It looks wonderful.”

Ferdinand’s eyes on him were molten. Lorenz refused to look, but then Ferdinand’s hand was on Lorenz’s chin. “Lorenz,” he started, but whatever he was going to say was lost as Lorenz leaned down and kissed him. Maybe it wasn’t what Ferdinand had intended, but how could he care when this was everything he ever wanted for five long years? No, he didn’t care: not when Ferdinand tasted of their tea and his lips were rough along his jaw. Not when Ferdinand was pushing him back onto the bed, or that Ferdinand was unbuttoning Lorenz’s coat, or that even clenching onto Ferdinand’s shoulders couldn’t stop his shaking.

“I have wanted this for so long,” Ferdinand murmured into his neck, his breath hot. His skin was thrumming. “And you—“

Lorenz’s eyes peeled open, and before he could think better of it, he was speaking. “Your braid.” 

Ferdinand pulled back. Yes, his angelic braid was lopsided now. More importantly, his swollen lips shone with their spit.

“Er.” Lorenz cleared his throat, tried to stamp down some of the breathiness that came with seeing a vision like that. “Hilda wanted me to show you her hair when I was done.”

Ferdinand looked at him like he was either daft or oblivious, and Lorenz felt like he was both. He also felt like he would combust, that all his fire magic would burst from him and set the whole Monastery aflame. It was a sin for Ferdinand to have that dark look in his eyes while smiling so devilishly. “Hilda can wait.”

Lorenz ended up having to redo the braid.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! These two are my favorite characters from 3H, and I'm still a little salty they didn't get an A support.
> 
> Title is from The Cure song of the same name!
> 
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